


The School of the Seven Bells

by Emcee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bells, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emcee/pseuds/Emcee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock decides to give Molly a lesson in the School of the Seven Bells-- with a little twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The School of the Seven Bells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PetraTodd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraTodd/gifts).



"Are you ready for your lesson?"

The dark, velvety voice always sent a shiver through Molly's body. She gulped and clutched her hands in her lap. "Yes," she murmured softly.

Sherlock chuckled. "Yes what?"

"Yes Sir," Molly amended. She let out a small squirm of excitement. She'd been ready since she received the text from Sherlock that he was done his case and needed to let off some steam. Molly did as he commanded, showering and then kneeling naked on the floor until he arrived. Now that it was time, she was having trouble containing her glee.

He made quick work shedding his jacket, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. Long, elegant fingers popped the buttons on his tight, wine red shirt. He did not shuck it, letting it hang open, framing the pale skin of his sculpted torso. Molly's tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she recalled tracing his muscles with her mouth.

"Ah!" Sherlock's eyes sparked at the sight of her action. He brought a hand to her mouth, making her close it. "Must I get the crop out?"

"No Sir," Molly murmured softly, muffled slightly by the digit pressed to her lips.

"Good," Sherlock hummed in response. "Not that I do not love reddened that gorgeous arse, but tonight I have something special in mind. Something new." 

Molly's heart began to pound, the blood rushing in her ears. Sherlock could be so very inventive when it came to sex. Molly was half-convinced Sherlock was into kink solely so sex didn't get boring. The actual act itself-- while pleasurable-- was a bit monotonous. Rhythmic friction until climax is reached.

But one thing Molly could never call sex with Sherlock was 'boring'.

He leaned down, threading his fingers in her hair and tilting her hair back with a bit of force. "You may open your mouth now."

Molly parted her lips as Sherlock's mouth pressed to hers, questing tongue sliding into the recesses of her mouth. She moaned softly, letting him ravage her, throwing in the occasional nip to her lips.

She was getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen when Sherlock finally withdrew, his tongue slipping over his distinct cupid's bow as he looked her over. Her cheeks were hot and her mouth tingled from the rough affection of her lover. "Get onto the bed," Sherlock commanded. "On your back."

Molly rose, her legs shaky from the effort of moving from the position she had been in for far too long. She felt Sherlock's hands on her hips, helping her up, rewarding her for her adherence to his instructions.

Molly obligingly lay back on the bed, letting out a long breath as she looked up at Sherlock. His gaze was of cool appraisal, just the smallest hint of appreciation in his light blue gaze.

Sherlock went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He took out a box, closing the drawer behind him before kneeling on the bed by Molly's feet. "Now tell me, Molly... What do you know of the School of the Seven Bells?" 

Molly scrunched up her nose in thought. "Isn't that an American band?" 

Sherlock drew a bell out of the box. It was one of those small, jingly bells Molly associated with Christmas. It was attached to a thin piece of ribbon. He looked up at Molly briefly, eyes narrowed. "That... Is not what I am referring to."

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Molly's ankle before tying the ribbon in place, the bell resting just where Sherlock had kissed. He took another bell from the box, repeating the process with her other ankle.

Next came a long piece of ribbon with two bells tied to it. "The School of the Seven Bells is legendary-- but possibly apocryphal-- academy in Columbia."

Sherlock wrapped the long ribbon around Molly's waist. He knew her measurements with such precision that each bell rested perfectly on her pelvic bones, right on top of the places he pressed his lips.

Next, there were soft kissed to the insides of her wrists, with bells placed on the pulse.

Sherlock hummed softly as he ascended her body. He nuzzled his nose to each hardening nipple in turn. "I should hang them from your nipples. But I thought that too much a commitment for you to make." He chuckled softly, making it clear it was in jest. He tenderly kissed her nipple, trailing over the swell of her breast and over her collar until he reached her throat. He dipped his tongue into the suprasternal notch with a soft groan. Molly tried to suppress the pride she felt at Sherlock's fetish for her neck. Of course, she had a similar one for his.

Sherlock tied one last ribbon at her throat. He kept it loose, like a necklace rather than anything that would choke her. He dropped a quick kiss to her lip. "As I was saying, the School of the Seven Bells is an academy in Columbia. Pickpocketing is quite the issue there."

Sherlock pulled back and arranged Molly carefully, placing her hands palm up on the bed, spread out. He bent her legs before spreading her legs obscenely. Despite their intimacy, Molly felt a fleeting urge to cover herself up as Sherlock stared unabashedly at her.

Sherlock reached between Molly's legs, gliding the tips of his fingers against her. She bit her lip to muffle her cry. Bells jangled as he hips shifted to meet his all too gentle touch.

A sharp look from Sherlock told her this was the wrong thing to do. A small whimper escaped her mouth and she stilled. "The final test of the School of the Seven Bells is to pickpocket a dummy wearing clothing lined with seven strategically placed bells. To pass the test, you must lift all of the valuables from the dummy without making a single sound." 

Sherlock chuckled darkly. "Of course, such a test is usually for the person attending to the one covered in bells..." 

Molly's nose crinkled. "Are you equating me to a dummy?"

Sherlock hushed her. He glanced up at her from between her legs. "I plan to do wicked things to you, Miss Hooper. And I do not want to hear a single solitary sound." 

Molly hoped Sherlock wouldn't take her sharp intake of breath against her. She looked down at him with wide eyes. He was looking up at her, a sinful smirk on his lips as he bowed his head.

The touch of his warm, wet tongue to her clit sent a bolt of pleasure through her body. She pressed her lips together, trying to tamp down her want to moan. She didn't know what was more arousing: Sherlock's ministrations or the fact she couldn't move a single muscle, lest she make one of the bells ring.

She wanted to move. She wanted to bury her fingers in his soft curls and urge him to lick her faster, move her hips in concert with his tongue. But this was her challenge. This was what Sherlock wanted of her.

So many times before, Sherlock had put her in the most beautiful of bondage to stop her movements. She loved being tied down by him, being completely at his mercy. She was just as enamoured with this. She could move if she truly wanted to. There was nothing stopping her but her own will. She just had to trust Sherlock would give her what she needed.

His movements were languid, tongue sliding up her labia lazily. He stopped at her clitoris to suck at the excited bud. "I have no idea if the School of the Seven Bells is a factual institution," Sherlock murmured, gliding two fingers into her. "However, I have used the technique to hone my own pickpocketing skills." He nuzzled his nose against her. "I found it very effective." He chuckled softly before swirling his tongue around her clit once again. "Of course you know. You have experienced the handcuffs I've liberated from Lestrade."

Her muscles ache from the effort of keeping them in place. She can't even brace her hands on the mattress as Sherlock placed them palm up. That was the point. He wanted to test her endurance, push her to her breaking point.

"God, Molly..." Sherlock rasped as his fingers thrust deeper into her. "You are soaked." He glanced up at her. "Can't move your hips, so your cunt is dripping to let me know just how needy you are?" He darted his tongue around his fingers. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Molly closed her eyes tightly, trying to brace herself to the onslaught of pleasure.

"No," Sherlock rumbled. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

Molly bit her lip hard, cutting off the whimper that threatened to escape. She opened her eyes once again to look down at her lover.

"Good girl," Sherlock purred. His fingers moved faster. Not hard enough to jostle her, but rough enough to make pools of lust pool in Molly's stomach.

"You want to come, don't you?" Sherlock's voice was full of taunting. "Want to buck your hips wildly... Grab my hair and give in to the pleasure..." He laughed as he doubled his efforts, lapping at her with abandon, his fingers quickening.

Molly just watched him, feeling the pleasure building inside her. She would not be able to give herself over to her climax staying completely still. Her muscles were aching. If she even breathed too deeply, she risked making the bells jangle.

Sherlock's cold eyes glanced up at her. "Beg for to come, Molly," he commanded. He then fastened his lips to her clit, sucking hard.

Molly's lips parted and her wail echoed through the room. "Sherlock, PLEASE!" She was unabashedly sobbing in pleasure. "Please let me come. Oh God, I need to come..." She fought to keep her eyes open, to keep them trained on him. He still gazed up at her, drinking in her tortured expression. "I need it. Oh, God... I need it, Sherlock. Please please _please_."

Her pleas were drowned out by the raucous sounds of the bells as Sherlock flipped Molly onto her hands and knees. Her limbs trembled to keep her upright, so quickly pulled from their still position.

Molly was given no time to dwell on the soreness of her body as Sherlock sheathed himself inside of her, roughly thrusting his cock into her.

The bells jangled with each thrust, each slap to her upturned bottom. Molly's keens joined the melody of the bells.

Sherlock draped himself over Molly's back as he continued to hump himself into her. "You sound beautiful," he purred. He pressed his teeth into her shoulder. "Now let me hear you come."

Molly sobbed in gratefulness, finally allowed to give herself over. She pressed back, trying to take as much of Sherlock as she could, her muscles fluttering around him as her body fell over the precipice of pleasure.

As her orgasm crested, her limbs finally gave out and she collapsed to the bed, Sherlock slipping out of her unceremoniously.

Molly tiredly turned herself onto her side as Sherlock shuffled up on the bed. She obligingly opened her lips and took his twitching prick into her mouth. She could taste herself all over him. She glanced up at him, seeing the pleased look on his face as she teased him with her tongue.

His hips bucked, fingers tightening in her hair. Molly reached a hand up, cradling his scrotum, stroking her fingertips over him. Sherlock groaned and climaxed into her mouth.

Sherlock withdrew, letting Molly swallow his release. He immediately took her into his arms, gently rubbing her arms, holding her close. "How was that? Are you all right?"

Molly closed her eyes, nestling into his chest. She sighed happily, content to nuzzle against him.

Sherlock's fingers sifted through her sweaty hair. "You were brilliant, Molly." He kissed her forehead.

Molly just smiled, soothed by the beating of Sherlock's heart.

"Next time," Sherlock murmured. "We'll see what you can do when I wear the bells."


End file.
